


A Continued Service

by wishfulclicking



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulclicking/pseuds/wishfulclicking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson's next case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Continued Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MartiniPhilosopher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartiniPhilosopher/gifts).



> Thanks to T for all the help.

“You’re up,” said the Chief Judge with a hint of joviality warming her tone. 

It wasn’t often things could surprise Cassandra. Sometimes flashes bled through, but she often could ascertain the correct state of things left unsaid. When she had left Dredd she had walked away certain that she had lost the opportunity for to reach a goal she had desperately wanted. She had accepted her fate and was ready to move on, sure of her actions and refusing to feel like the failure the rules had found her to be. 

“I passed? But how?” She straightened her shoulders to make sure she was looking the Chief Judge in the eye. “I failed the required objectives, sir. Did Judge Dredd approve this?”

“There is more than one way to pass, Anderson, and before you ask: Judge Dredd gave you the affirmative. There is no way I would override his recommendation on this matter.” She slid one of those smiles that had given Cassandra measures of comfort throughout her testing period to become a judge. She held fresh the memory of entering the academy and watching the then commander give a speech to all possible recruits; at the time, the current Chief Judge had been one of the judges behind the former Chief Judge, but she had been the only one to come to Cassandra’s group and not shy away from her gaze when she read about her ability. “Now that we’re done with that moment, take three days to recharge and be ready for your assignment first thing in the morning. You’ll be working a lighter division, but be doing it solo with an occasional check by a senior officer.”

“Yes, I could be ready tomorrow if needed.”

“You’ve had quite the experience and we need fresh judges. Take the offered rest when you can, it’s a rare thing.” The Chief Judge rose from her seat and gave Cassandra a firm handshake. “Congratulations, Anderson, I never doubted your ability to get to this point. Now go out there and remember the mission and honor the shield.”

Three days of rest could go as slow or fast as she wanted: meditation could slow down time where a day could feel like a year in her mind. Flashes of Peachtrees punctured the blankness of sleep: the shrill, pained flashback of the technopath, jagged, grotesqueness of the drug dealer’s mindscape, the flat, calmness Mama exhibited right near the very end. On the second day, a message came in detailing her new location and requested her presence immediately the next morning with no further explanation. 

Good. She wanted to move; immobility was for the dead.

Sector Six was just near the breach of the outer ring where pockets of radiation sickness still sprung up as a macabre surprise. Because most people sought to move as far away from the radiation site leaks as possible, Sector Six was slightly less crowded than the other towering megacities near the core. Inhabitants there were those who weren’t lucky enough to leave, couldn’t afford a way to get out, or those who sought the edges of civilization for their own reasons. The population of people was more spread out, giving the benefit of space, but the cost of limited resources. 

The further she rode out from the clustered, behemoths at the center, the more the harsh neon and chilled gray gave way to the dull browns of the scorched earth. It seemed to her that no matter how much they built, nature had a way of peeking through to remind them all of the destruction that preceded them. Her scanner notified her of another Judge in her vicinity, and as she rounded a corner she saw a figure on a cruiser waiting on the curb. 

“New blood, eh?” The new judge said as she removed her helmet to match Anderson. She was taller than Anderson, and her voice carried years that matched the lines along her face. It was uncommon to see an older Judge still working patrol. “Judge Smith.” She held out her hand and enclosed Anderson’s hand in a firm handshake. “The no helmet thing is new, but it’s good to look the person you’re working with in the eye.” She tilted her head after a pause. “Something tells me the lack of helmet isn’t just for first introductions.”

“No, sir, I’m psychic and the helmet interferes with my abilities. I work better without it,” said Anderson.

Judge Smith nodded. “You passed the training period,” she looked down to her hologram screen,” and with Dredd at that, so you must know how to handle yourself. I’m going to assume you’ve looked at the map that was sent you with notice of your assignment so you’re passably familiar with the area.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you should also know that there are things map don’t tell, things that only familiarity and physical presence can bring.” Smith expanded her holoscreen into Anderson’s view. “ We’re in the middle of the outer ring. Lots of smuggling and trade going on. With those things come the organized criminal element.”

“Are we going after the gang leader, sir?”

That brought out a chuckle from Smith. “Your first day must have been memorable. No, Judge Anderson, the two of us are not aiming so high at the moment. Patrol your area. Seek to minimize crime as you see fit. Take the West arc until you get to the midpoint and then circle back. There’s a general flow of small robberies and loitering throughout the area. Nothing major. If you get in any trouble, go on your comm and report it. Good luck, Anderson. May your second day be much less eventful than your first.”

“If I see any activity beyond minor robberies?”

“Then assess the situation and handle it if you can. We know this area serves as a midway for illegal operating; but we are not able to predict crime, and as of now, we have only caught those engaged in minor criminal activity. You can only catch what’s in front of you.”

She turned to leave and Anderson could swear she could hear Smith laughing to herself go after the gang leader as she walked away. 

“Oh, and Anderson,” Smith called out before she walked away, “ You’re a judge now, there is no more official training. Your judgement has been deemed worthy.”

From her studies in the Academy Anderson knew that similarity was woven throughout the various megacities and sectors by design; that the similarities were intended to lessen the impact of any forced relocations. As the distance from the irradiated wasteland beyond the wall increased, more flourishes of style appeared, but the outer areas were a layout of styled blocks with projects half as high of the larger towers like Peachtrees. It was easy for Anderson to flash back to her time growing up in a similar landscape, when the radiation was more severe and the effects more deadly.

Her internal wandering pulled more time than she had imagined because she had crossed half her section without any calls from her communicator. She rode on, passing by scattered crowds and stopped to hand out citations for loiters clustered near the entrance of a building: five days in containment cell if they continued to be there when she circled back, which was slightly higher than the average but no where near the harshest sentences given out for the same offense. 

She apprehended two men running from a robbery: six months in confinement cell for property damage and larceny. 

When she came back to the spot where the men were loitering, one was gone. More events forced her to stop appeared on her third run through: an assault broken up (two months for both parties), vandalism (one month for the minor), a woman fighting with a store vendor (a warning). No sign of obvious smuggling activity from the gang. If she hadn’t read the report and received confirmation from Smith, she would doubt the gang’s existence, but it was too early to make any definitive conclusions. 

Her break time came upon her without notice; when she arrived to her meeting point Judge Smith was already there propped against her cruiser with a wrap in her hand. A group of children played not far from her, adding their laughter to the background noise of the street. 

“Nothing too major, right?” Smith said when Anderson was within hearing distance. 

“No. Just some loiterers, assault, and--”

“Vandalism?” added Smith. “Textbook first level offences. Maybe a robbery or two.”

“Correct.” Anderson took a bite from her bar and went over her day so far. It was rather textbook, too much like one now that she had time to dissect it. “Something felt off about it, but I can’t quite see it.”

“Even without your helmet not blocking abilities?” Smith took another bite of her wrap and tossed the remaining portion into a trash receptacle. “Be thankful this day isn’t too much. Most first days here are like this, but there are more eventful days. You look good, like you’re not going to run off.”

“Sir, I am good,” said Anderson. 

“Great. Then, I’m off,” she said before she slid back onto her cruiser and rode off into the opposite direction.

Anderson suddenly thought of Dredd. He wouldn’t just be thankful for a light day. He would have investigated, but Dredd wasn’t here and she was. She wasn’t a rookie anymore and had to trust her instincts. The routine of the day was jarring; perhaps she was stuck on the extreme of Peachtrees with its double dealing Judges and larger than life drug lords with dedicated torture methods. She pushed out with her abilities, mostly to clear her mind by running over events of the day. Loitering, assault, warning, vandalism. Loitering, assault, vandalism, warning. Complete textbook, as if someone had planned out her day to mirror a training exercise for rookie Judges. 

In the background the children were getting louder, or was she just noticing it more? She turned towards the noise because something in her mind was trying it’s hardest to tell her not to and suddenly---

She knew.

Anderson threw away the remainder of her lunch, got back on her cruiser, and rode around her area once before she circled back. 

When she arrived to the spot where she first noticed the two men loitering she passed through the entrance into a darkened vacated shop. On her first ride through the area this place had looked like any standard shop, but now that she was paying attention, she could see it for the vantage point that it was. Anderson made no sounds as she walked to the end of the store towards the shadow silhouetted figure. The figure didn’t have to turn around for Anderson to know it was a girl, age thirteen, and she was called Holly even though she wasn’t even sure if that was her given name since her parents were memories she had long discarded.

The timed breeze of air laced with a variety of medication to prevent any adverse effects from trace radiation floated through the shutters of the empty stand, reminding Anderson of her time growing up without those breezes and how the clench of stale death seeped throughout their house. She could still bring up the flashes of thoughts from her parents as they died, each image covered in worry for her and what her future would be. Filtered medicated air was only five years old; with this girl’s scars, the cancer must have already set in before she could get any help. 

“They takes care of me,” the girl said with her arms folded across her chest. The half of her face not permanently marred into a squint matched the other as she glared at Anderson.

“And you take care of them by covering up their operation to anyone who would notice.” Anderson looked into Holly again, this time deeper. “The daily crimes are textbook because you’ve seen the training exercises for rookie judges through someone’s memories. Did those people even want to do the things you set them up for?”

“They’re all guilty.”

“You make the judges not notice. It’s not difficult because psychics are so rare there is no certified means to work against them.”

“You’re like me?” 

Anderson ignored the question and continued on: “You made people not see you at first because of your scarring.” Anderson faced the girl full on and lifted her Lawgiver into position. “How long? Since you were eight?”

“First did it when I was six, then I got good when I was seven. Now, I’m perfect.” Her voice held an unmistakable level of pride, and even with Anderson aiming at her face, the girl hardly acknowledged the weapon, as if it was only a temporary obstacle.

“No, you’re not. You’re execution was sloppy and you left tracks. Did you mean to leave a path back to yourself or do you just not know better?” Anderson paused to see if any of what she was saying registered. She flashed a bit and hit a wall that could never think to block her and broke through with enough force the girl flinched. “You felt that. That’s me at not even half strength. That’s me after training.”

One year. Confinement cell. Possible entry into hall after questioning. It wasn’t much of a deal, Anderson thought, as she tightened the handcuffs onto the girl. If she didn’t agree to work with the Justice Hall she would be either be executed or maybe have her power removed through surgery that would leave her a shell of her former self and sent to do hard labor in another sector. Some claimed it was mercy, but Anderson could never see it that way. 

She walked the girl out of the store and radioed into headquarters to send for a pickup. Her report would be long on her findings and she was sure it would gain much interest with a rogue psychic being involved. Her night would be devoured by it because she was determined to have it in the Director’s inbox first thing in the morning. Then, tomorrow she would coordinate with Smith about possibly smoking out the gang now that their special aid was gone; or she would go out on whatever assignment she was sent on. She was ready for it all.


End file.
